


A Debt

by Lucifer_Jadezexus373



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 02:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18540256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifer_Jadezexus373/pseuds/Lucifer_Jadezexus373
Summary: Clint and Natasha take care of each other after a rough mission.





	A Debt

Clint helped Natasha limp up the stairs into their hotel room, knowing she wouldn’t let him carry her unless there was really no way she could walk. She didn’t think anything was broken, some cuts would need stitches though. Clint had a bunch of cuts across the right side of his face from crashing through a window and while Natasha felt some sort of anger at that she was way past worrying about him. They were both strong, even without the other to lean on. They had completed a mission that would have taken any other team much longer, so it was successful, and they were both going to be fine. That’s what Natasha told herself as they made their way up the couple flights of stairs. They were always fine, but the first night after a job like this was usually rough. More nightmares and victims faces and the people they couldn’t save. And of course, worrying about Clint and still hating that she cared enough to worry.  
“You shower first,” Clint said, “I’ll get you stitched up when you’re done.”  
Natasha smiled, “Thanks,” she murmured, leaning into him and relishing the way his hand dug into her side.  
Natasha made sure not to lock the door as she stripped out of clothes covered in dried blood and sweat. She looked in the mirror, her makeup was almost all gone save for mascara smudged under her eyes. There was no point staring too long, she knew what she looked like after a rough mission. She showered quickly, focusing on getting the blood off and cleaning out her cuts.  
Clint was cleaning and organizing his arrows when she walked out. She looked beat, exhausted, but not in too bad shape. Of course she looked gorgeous, but Clint was used to ignoring thoughts of how gorgeous Natasha was.   
“Hey,” Natasha smiled, sitting next to him on the bed.  
“What you got?” Clint asked, grabbing suture kits from their bag full of first aid supplies.   
“In my ribs right here,” she let the towel pool around her hips, her eyes glued to Clint’s, watching him. He’d seen her like this plenty, hell he’d seen her with nothing on, but the fact that they were both used to it didn’t take the tension out of the room.  
The cut definitely needed stitches and Clint got out a local anesthetic to numb the area. “I’m numbing it.” he said, knowing it would take quite a few stitches. “Lie down.”  
She gave him a look, like she was about to argue before saying, “Fine.”   
“You’ve had enough pain for today, Nat,” Clint said knowingly. She still leaned towards pain, especially the kind she could control, she thought she deserved it. Clint didn’t usually entertain that idea, not even when they first started working together.   
Natasha makes a low noise of agreement, barely clenching her jaw at the painful shot. She watches Clint carefully, his precise and skilled sutures just as good as what she could do. She watches him focus, glancing up to meet her eyes every now and then, slowly dragging his eyes over her bare chest, somehow making her feel things she had no understanding of.   
“All done,” he finally said, giving her a crooked smile. “Anywhere else?”  
“My arm, not sure if it needs stitches though,” she held it out for him to examine.  
“Knife?” Clint asked, examining the cut.  
“Yep.”  
“I’ll stitch it together, that way no scar. The edges are really clean, it won’t be hard,” he props her arm up on a pillow, wanting to do a good job   
After her arm is stitched up, Clint goes to take his own shower, coming out a few minutes later to see that Natasha had taken the liberty of putting clothes on. This was good for him, because he had been known to make stupid fucking decisions when Natasha wasn’t dressed. Her outfit choice was similar to what Clint would have guessed. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. The t-shirt was his though, and he could see her nipples through the thin cotton.   
He had taken the time to bandage all of his cuts, deciding he didn’t need stitches anywhere. A couple scars weren’t as big a deal for him as they were for Nat though, which was stupid but true. Visible scars would draw attention on her, especially when she was undercover.  
“Nice shirt,” Clint teased, his eyes crinkling with a smile.  
“I thought so,” Natasha agreed, standing up carefully.  
Clint walked up to her, letting a hand rest on her hip, careful for the spot he had just put nearly 20 stitches in. “You were amazing today,” he said, his other hand resting on her cheek.   
Natasha let herself lean into the pressure, having long ago given up trying to distance herself from him. “So were you.”  
“You’re gorgeous Nat,” he whispered, watching as the young assassin turned and planted a kiss to his palm.  
“You’re not so bad yourself.”  
Clint closed his eyes, breathing deeply, thinking about all the times they had been here, right on the edge. All of the times they had stopped themselves, all of the times he had remembered to remember his wife. And the times they didn’t stop, the times they tucked away and hid in the backs of their minds, the times they tore each other to pieces because there was no one else in the world who knew what they were going through.   
He let himself fall into her, his head resting on her shoulder as she held him, her hands carding through his hair, breathing into the curve of his shoulder. “I”m sorry,” she whispered, having no idea what she was apologizing for.   
“I need you, Tasha,” he said, looking her in the eye. “Don’t want anyone in the world but you,” the words hurt to say, but every one rang true.  
He was perfect to her, standing in the dim light of their hotel room, a towel low on his waist, showing off his toned torso, still damp from his shower. “Yeah, okay,” she whispered, too tired to work out all of the feelings. Who has time for feelings anyway?   
She took half a step back, pulling the shirt over her head. Clint took in the sight, now that he was allowed to look, and was on her breasts immediately, calloused hands toying with her nipples, his skilled tongue making her heart race within moments. “Fuck. Clint,” he was on a goddam mission and Natasha was more than willing to oblige.   
He pushed her back across the room, letting the towel fall to the ground on his way to the bed. Clint threw her into the mattress and Natasha appreciated that it would probably have been much less gentle if she didn’t have two sets of brand new stitches. Clint knew what got to her, he knew what turned her on, he knew that Natasha didn’t always want it gentle, that she wanted to feel every last fucking thing.  
“I’ve missed this, Nat,” he said, pulling her sweatpants down and throwing them off the bed.   
His lips are on hers before she has a chance to echo the sentiment, and two fingers are buried in her pussy, his thumb pressing against her clit making her moan against his mouth. Natasha’s hands wrap around his bicep, pulling him harder against her, bucking her hips against his hand. Clint was the last person she had been with, and that had been a long time ago. They didn’t let this happen often, for obvious reasons.   
He loved this, watching her like this. Clint would never get tired of seeing the world’s strongest assassin come apart in his hands. The most beautiful woman he had ever met, practically begging him to fuck her. He decided this was his favorite way to see her, hair tangled and damp, cheeks flushed, but not a trace of makeup, sweaty and writhing beneath him.   
“Clint. Fuck” her hips snapped up and it took every bit of self control not to drive his cock inside of her. “Fuck!” she hated how desperate she sounded, hated that he was the only person in the world she would let herself unravel in front of.   
“You gotta tell me what you want, baby,” Clint whispered the word, his mouth drifting up to right beneath her ear before trailing kisses back down her neck, her collar bone, back to her nipples, and Natasha was so close, so close. She was about to just come on his hand rather than beg for it. But as always he felt her, and he stopped, pulling his hand back. The fucking bastard.  
She groaned, low in her throat, and pulled him up to meet her eyes, “You better finish what you started Barton,” she said, reaching down and grabbing his cock, stroking it hard, making his brain short circuit.   
By some miracle he managed to get the words out, “Tell me what you want.”  
“I want you to fuck me so hard you forget that other women exist,” she snarled, letting go of his dick so he could do what she said.   
The statement was mean, it hit too close to home, and Clint knew it was a reflection of their fucked up little relationship. It did turn them both on, which also went to show how messed up they were.  
He didn’t bother with games or teasing after that, easily pushing into her as she pressed a filthy open mouthed kiss on his lips. Clint breathed her in, relishing how well they fit together. Her hips strained up against the weight of his body. It had been a while, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Clint pulled her leg higher up his torso, Natasha locking her ankles around his back so he had access to every inch of her.   
“So perfect, Tasha,” he murmured.  
“Oh my God, Clint,” Natasha moaned as he brought a hand down to her clit. A string of curse words followed, Clint caught that they were Russian, but his focus was not on translating Natasha’s expletives. She came undone around his cock, and Clint thrust into her for a few more moments until he came as well, knowing she didn’t mind. He didn’t want to take his eyes off of her, but far too soon he rolled away to go get some towels so they could clean themselves up.  
Natasha was thankful that he gave her a second to collect herself. She got vulnerable after being with him, something about just being Natasha, it was terrifying. More than once she had made it brutally clear to Clint that she needed a minute by herself after sex, she regretted that now, wishing he wasn’t so fast to leave. A much more damaged Natasha had set those boundaries, not that they were maintaining a particularly healthy relationship.  
Clint cleaned them both off, uncharacteristically quiet, before settling next to her. “We’re okay,” he said, and Natasha felt like he was saying it more for himself than for her.  
“Yeah,” she agreed, turning towards him so they were lying face to face.  
“Are we?” Clint asked, studying her face intently, looking for any sign of trouble.  
Natasha reached out, touching his face, “What’s wrong, Clint?” she asked, true concern in her voice. It was painful, how much she loved him. She thought in some sick way that loving him was more painful than anything she had ever done, which was an incredibly ridiculous thing to say considering everything she had been through.  
His eyes kept studying her, “I just care about you, s’all.” his voice is so childish and loving that Natasha is taken aback. “I don’t want to mess this up. It’s all crazy already.”  
“Clint,” Natasha whispered, a thousand things running through her head. “You are not messing anything up. This is perfect.” she wanted to say she knows it’s not going to last forever, that she knows Laura can give him things she will never be able to, but she couldn’t bring herself to say those words.   
“I love you,” he said softly, looking at her like she was the axel upon which his world revolved. It was a way that Natasha had never been looked at by anyone, a way that she didn’t feel she deserved to be looked at.  
Natasha sighed, “I love you too,” it was a painful thing to say to him. Knowing that they wouldn’t be together in the end, that ship had sailed. Part of her resented him for it, for fucking her brains out and then professing his love while he had a family to go home to. Because it was cruel, stringing her along when all she would be left with were the memories of him. He saved her life time and time again, and more importantly, he saved her soul, every time she felt it slipping away. Clint reminded her what it was like to live, he taught her what it was like to love. For the first time, Natasha had something to die for, something to live for, and a part of her was certain it was the most awful thing that could have happened. She had a fleeting thought that she should just break his neck and be done with it. But she didn’t, and she never would, because he had taught her better, he had saved her and he continued to save her. And for that she would forever owe him a debt.


End file.
